


The Sum of the Parts

by bloodreddahlia



Category: Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: Canon Related, F/M, Mild Sexual Content, Reader-Insert
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-01-04
Updated: 2017-01-04
Packaged: 2018-09-14 09:31:56
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 836
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9173830
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/bloodreddahlia/pseuds/bloodreddahlia
Summary: You reflect on one who is so much more to you than the sum of the parts.





	

**Author's Note:**

> A little thing I've had rattling around in my brain for a while. I hope you enjoy.

You look at him and wonder how and when he became such an inextricable part of your life. What is it about him that has made him indispensable to you; an extension of your very self? Is it in the way that he studies your every move with his calculating, inscrutable grey green eyes? He watches you now but as his gaze sweeps over your bare milky curves, he reveals his trembling vulnerabilities, if only for a moment, in this more intimate setting as his long slender fingers tangle in the fire of your flowing tresses and ghost over the rosy buds of your breasts. His eyes meet the deep blue ocean of your orbs as he searches; he always searches but for what, you can never really be sure. 

 

Right now, in this place, it would seem he has found what he is looking for as he exhales a deep contented sigh and the fine lines of his eyes and mouth smoothen and the tension leaves his jaw. His lips quirk into his characteristic sardonic smirk and his dimples deepen. There is a mischievous gleam in his eyes as he pulls you closer and whispers his endearments, his seductions. His beguiling words, uttered in a raspy sing song brogue, susurrate against the soft skin of your neck at the pulse point. You smile softly and run your fingers through the greying hair at his temples as his soft lips claim the pendulum of your earlobe, his warm wet seed quickly drying on the skin of your inner thighs.

 

You recall your first encounter with the man. You were nothing but a pretty insignificance; a porcelain doll, fragile and mute amongst the den of vipers that would use and abuse you and throw you away like a broken toy. They nipped and worried at the edges of your innocence but his wise and calming words and chaste touches strengthened you against their defilements. You strolled together in the waning light, your dainty hand on his velvet clothed forearm as he spoke of the world - his world, through his eyes; a world that he promised you would one day hold in the palm of your hand. He walked with measured assurance, every move calculated as it always was. Already you are slightly taller than he and he, of course, is so much older than you, but to these things and many more, you are ever blind. He lifts your hand to his soft lips, the hair of his moustache and beard bristling across your fingers. He smiles, and for you and you only, the smile meets his eyes.

 

Then one day he leaves. You blink back your tears and watch forlornly from the shore as his ship gradually disappears from view. With him sails all hope and a part of you is lost. You are alone in this place with those who would only wish you harm; you are wed to the imp and while there is no ravishment, you have nonetheless fallen so far. Your humiliation and despair are complete. You think upon him and regret the day that you did not take his hand when it was proffered. 

 

When you are reunited you are once again whole. It is night. You stand on the deck of his ship, staring at the gibbous moon and revelling in the death of the mad usurper king - your tormenter. His hands are on your shoulders as he stands behind you whispering his covenants softly into your ear. You lean back against him as his arms encircle your waist in a warm and protective embrace, his cheek pressed against the silk of your hair that catches in the sea breeze. 

 

His ultimate betrayal is a lesson well learned. You are not returned to the warm bosom of your family but instead delivered to one who would seek to break you. The fingers bruise, the brutal words cut and slash at your soul, your body and mind violated, both. And yet you are not broken. You emerge from the chrysalis of your suffering a new and transcendent thing. He sees, he knows, he fears, he desires what you have become and what you are still to become. You and he together, a pretty picture indeed, and yet? 

 

What is he to you, this man who in another life could have been your father but has turned out to be so much more? 

 

Your mentor?  
Your protector?  
Your only friend?  
Your lover?  
Your captor?  
Your greatest foe? 

 

As cold hard Valyrian steel meets warm yielding flesh and a river of red flows beneath your fingertips, you watch as the light gradually leeches from his eyes. Your name tumbles in a trembling gasp from his lips and with a slow steady exhale the man who was, is no more. You lean over his face as a single teardrop traces down your cheek and drips onto his cold stilled lips. Suddenly, with absolute clarity you finally understand what this man was to you. 

 

Everything.


End file.
